Sickness
by naruutard
Summary: He fucking loved knowing that Naruto only ate when he told him so and he loved the way his fingers were shoved so far down his throat it's a wonder he hasn't choked yet. But most of all, he loves the power he holds over the boys life. - Sasuke x Naruto eating disorders


This is my first fic, so ya know, it's not the best, so, be nice? I'm still getting used to the whole account thing so, bear with me.

This is a Sasuke x Naruto fic and it's pretty fucking dark (vomit!kink, eating disorder, manipulation, sex - the whole lot) so if this is triggering to you in _any way_, please do not read. Otherwise, enjoy!

Thanks for reading! And please, please, _please_ review.

...

He's going to kill him. He really is, if he keeps this up. Which is the overwhelming thought that _should_ be racing through his mind, but he can't concentrate over the feel of his fingers in that perfect fucking mouth and the bile which coats those digits.

And he _really_ shouldn't be whispering fiercely into the blonde's ear, on his knees, pressed tightly against Naruto's slick naked back. His hands running up and down his bare sides as he fucks him and utters out _sick_ encouragements (_fuck_ _yes, just like that_).

Naruto, a mere shell of what he once was, is sprawled out across the bathroom floor, his hands struggling to grip at the porcelain toilet. His nails dig into the sides in a desperate attempt at finding purchase on the slippery surface to keep from keeling over. His stomach lurches as his body produces another wave of bile into the already filthy bowl and Sasuke kisses him almost immediately after.

His thoughts begin to wander to Sakura and Sai; Kakashi, and Yamato; Iruka, Tsunade, Jiraiya and InoChojiShikamaruKibaHinataShinoNejiTentenLee.

He wonders what they would think of him if they saw him now. Would they even care?

Naruto lets out a particularly loud moan as Sasuke thrust hard against his prostate, successfully clearing his mind of all previous thoughts.

Sasuke rakes his fingers through Naruto's damp hair before closing a rough hand around those dull locks and yanking back hard enough to hurt (but not enough that he can't keep puking, of _course_ not).

_Don't you want the village to except you? Notice how thin you've gotten _(can you read my mind, _SasukeSasukeSasuke_)_? _Sasuke murmurs, his voice taunting, speaking in a voice just loud enough to be heard over the volume of his retching and the noise is so _desperate_.

His lets his eyes roam hungrily over the blonde's emaciated form, glances over the bones protruding sharply from beneath transparent skin, and instead of feeling guilty, he groans. It's a low guttural sound and he bites quickly at Naruto's neck in a desperate attempt to keep himself from coming too quickly.

In retaliation, Naruto throws back his head fully against Sasuke's shoulder, muttering goddamn words of _thanks_ and _praise_ that are almost too incoherent over the sound of their hedonistic fucking. His blond hair is limp and pressed stickily against his forehead with sweat; vomit coating his breath and lower lip.

He was addicted in the worst kind of way. He fucking _loved _knowing thatNaruto only ate when he told him so and he _loved_ the way that his fingers are shoved so far down his throat that it's a wonder he hasn't choked yet. But most of all, he loves the power he holds over the boys life.

He gets off on it.

His eyes gleam red in the dimness of the small bathroom, blown wide from lust and guilt – he wouldn't have it any other way.

And when Naruto comes without ever being touched, he makes the most beautiful sound, and he clenches so tightly around his cock, that Sasuke has no other choice but to release with him.

He should feel guilty. He should feel like the sick motherfucker that he is. And deep down, he _knows_ that this is just some sick, twisted psychological form of control that he is projecting onto Naruto. Aform of control which only ever occurred when _Itachi_ took it away. Took away his _control, _his_ power_.

And when they are done, he scoops up the limp form of the blond, watching as he wraps his tired thin, arms around the expanse of his neck. And when he kisses him, he tastes of bile, and he thinks that next time, _next time_, he will help him.

But he knows his promises are thick with lies.

...

How'd i do?

-J


End file.
